The Old Cape Teapot Read online

  Another swig of ale passed over his tongue as Julian shook his head. Why couldn’t he have gotten away with all of his treasure? He’d only had enough time to bury the extra pouch, filled with a small amount of gold coins, a short distance from the barn where he was hiding. He’d decided that if he were captured and, by chance, found innocent, he’d surely be able to retrieve the pouch later. It would be needed for his passage back to Antigua. The chest would have to remain hidden for a few years, until things calmed down on the Cape, and he could return for the real riches, unnoticed.

  Elizabeth appeared in the doorway. “John, you ill?”

  “No,” he yelled. He was angry. Not with his wife, but at his past.

  She knew her husband well enough to leave him alone to his thoughts.

  Julian leaned back, his bare toes kicking at the dirt. He clenched his teeth and walked over to the side of his house to piss. The smell of urine and dirt evoked another memory; the dank and squalid floor of his prison cell where he’d awaited trial in Boston for piracy five years ago. It was also the day he thought he would be hung alongside Thomas Davis. Both men had sat on the putrid dirt floor that morning, with Davis penitently whimpering his sins aloud. ‘I had wanted all of Bellamy’s treasure,’ he’d tearfully confessed to Julian. ‘I followed Maria Hallett and Sam Bellamy to a house in North Harwich. I knew the wagon held Sam’s treasure chests and had hoped for an opportunity to take it.’ With wide eyes he’d continued, ‘I grew tired of waiting, so I set the house on fire to ensure that no one would prevent me from gaining more gold.’

  Before they were brought to trial that day, Davis had revealed to Julian that within minutes of the deadly flames consuming everything, a wagon had crashed out of the barn, driven by a dark figure. He’d also seen someone running towards the wagon as it drove away, taking the treasure with them. Davis had waited until morning, hoping to search for anything he could salvage.

  Julian grinned as he flicked the last of his piss onto the sandy dirt, pleased that Davis had no chance to steal Bellamy’s cache because he was captured in North Harwich the next morning.

  11

  Present Day

  CAPE COD

  THE SCENT of Murphy’s Oil Soap tickled my nose as it drifted upstairs to my bedroom. My eyes opened in the morning light. The house was quiet. From the open skylight above my head, I heard gentle breezes rustling in the trees and traffic idling behind school busses along Route 6A. I rubbed my eyes clear, then stretched. Counting my blessings I whispered, “Good Morning, Lord. Thank you for Paul, Jim, Brian, Casey, Molly, and Danny. And thanks for getting me home safely to my own bed.”

  With feet planted on the carpeted floor, I stood to reach for my robe. Within a few minutes, I was padding down the steps and into the kitchen. Outside the window, leaves were falling across the driveway as autumn began to make its appearance on the Cape. The smell of coffee was satisfying; it was good to be home.

  Paul appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Wonderful. I forgot how great our bed is.” Pouring some coffee I sat at the table.

  He gave a gentle rub to my shoulders and sat opposite me.

  I held his hand. “Did the kids get off to school ok? I missed saying goodbye to them.”

  “No problem. Martha was here bright and early.”

  I noticed Martha moving stealthily from room to room downstairs, trying to be quiet as she cleaned. “Have you given any more thought to my news about John Julian?”

  “Yeah, you might be on to something there.”

  I perked up, pleased that Paul was agreeing with me. “I know I am. Of course, I still can’t believe Brian never connected his buddy John to the Bellamy legend and the pirates who survived the wreck of the Whydah.”

  Paul stroked my hand. “So, what’s on your agenda for the day, my lovely wife?”

  “Not much, maybe a walk on the beach.”

  My caffeine jolt was already kicking in. I stood up with wide eyes. “Oh my God, Paul, I was so tired last night that I never showed you the map.” I started for the door. “Hold on, let me go get it.”

  Paul grinned as he finished his morning coffee. “I have to get back to work. Show me later?”

  My heart fell. Here we go again, I thought, no time for me. “Okay.” I really wanted to share the map, but I knew he had some commissioned work that needed to be finished.

  As he left for his studio he said, “I love you. I’m glad you’re home.”

  I echoed back, “I love you, too.”

  I reminded myself that Paul’s lack of interest in the map shouldn’t bother me. He’s the one earning the living for the family. I examined the calendar of appointments and events on the fridge and the reality of being home and being responsible grounded me. Rinsing my cup I went to find Martha.

  As I walked through the front parlor’s doorway, I found her leaning over, dusting the light green bookshelves. With red ringlets of dyed hair that fell alongside her face and partially concealing her wrinkles, she was not your typical housekeeper.

  “Hi, Martha.”

  “Oh, hello.” She straightened up, adjusted her top and wiped her brow with the palm of her hand. “Did you have a nice trip?”

  “Yes, I did. Thank you.”

  The Murphy’s smell emanated from her every move. The use of the old soap was one of Paul’s weaknesses and requests. His mother had used it every day, so to him the smell meant a spotless home. I always thought I could fool him just by setting out a bowl of water with the oil soap in it, hoping he’d think I’d been scrubbing all day instead of shopping.

  “Everything smells so clean. I’ll be upstairs getting dressed.”

  “Okay,” Martha said and turned her back to continue dusting the bookcases.

  12

  September 1722

  YARMOUTH - CAPE COD

  FELICITY DAVIS, six months with child, waited for her mother, Bethia Gibbs, to join her for tea. Outside, the clouds had thickened and grew dark. The few trees surrounding the Davis home bent over backward in the nor’easter that raged its fury across the Cape. Rain pelted its heavy drops against the paned window of the parlor where the ladies took their daily indulgence. Felicity looked uncomfortable in her skin and hated living in the Yarmouth house.

  The new servant, Hephzibah, knocked before she entered the parlor; her tiny voice greeting her employer with, “Pardon me, your tea is ready.” She carried a large shiny silver tray that held a blue flowered teapot, two matching cups with saucers, and a few tasty strawberry sweet cakes.

  The sight of the blue tea set angered Felicity. This new face in her household was disturbing her afternoon with carelessness. She pursed her lips. “I don’t want to use that blue flowered pot. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Take it away,” she yelled at the young girl.

  “Begging your pardon, ma’am. It won’t happen again.”

  As Hephzibah retreated with the tray, Mother Gibbs flew in behind the hired girl before the door closed. Dressed in widow black, Mother Gibbs was also irritated on this bleak afternoon. Her satin skirts swished as she bustled over to a small settee and sat opposite her daughter who was resting in a straight-back chair. “I do not know why we need to live in such a primitive place.”

  Adjusting the cameo brooch that was pinned to her stiff neckline collar, Mother Gibbs looked over to her visibly upset daughter. Shaking her finger at her, she scolded, “I told you that this was a mistake… coming to this godforsaken place.”

  “I do regret agreeing to live in Yarmouth,” Felicity sighed. “Boston was so much more civilized.”

  Their conversation stopped as Hephzibah returned with a rose patterned teapot.

  “Will there be anything else, ma’am?”

  Felicity glanced at the tray to make sure everything was acceptable and then dismissed the girl with a quick wave of her fingers. The unhappy wife of Thomas Davis leaned over the small table and rested her chin atop
the palm of her hand. She grumbled, “Oh Mother, why did I not listen to you?”

  Mother Gibbs poured the hot liquid into the delicate teacups, one for herself and one for her pouting daughter. She voiced another concern, “And now that you are with child, what are you going to do?”

  A sweet cake seemed to calm Felicity. “I think I do love Thomas. I know he tries his best to provide, but I despise where he chooses to make his home…this no-man’s land.”

  Mother Gibbs kept her eyes lowered and coyly asked, “Has he ever confided to you about where his fortune came from?”

  Felicity reached for another cake with a confident air in her voice. “No, and I really don’t care. I have the papers that say I will receive everything upon his death.”

  “Yes, of course you will.” With another sip of tea, Bethia Gibbs added, “It was fortunate that your father was able to see you married before he passed and…” she glanced up, “…to have your husband’s assets legally bound over to you.”

  Davis’s pregnant wife gazed out to the storm ravaged landscape. “Thomas should soon be home from the West Indies.”

  Her mother reached for her piece of sweet bread and spoke the last word of the afternoon. “I wonder what Thomas will say after he discovers that he will soon be a father?”

  ***

  Thomas Davis exited the ship in Barnstable Harbor with Tobey following him down the rain-sodden plank. Davis felt a few days of delay from the nor’easter that pummeled the whole New England coast would be an opportunity for him to find a suitable gift for his new wife. He turned and stopped, then ordered Tobey. “Hear me out, boy.”

  With rain dripping from the brim of his hat, the obedient slave stood his ground on the dock and listened.

  Davis handed Tobey several coins. “Take this and find your own way ‘til the ship sails again.” He preferred to be separate from his ‘appointed guard’ and couldn’t care less if he ever saw him again.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Davis left Tobey in the rain and walked to the nearest inn looking for his own shelter. Tobey, alone and frightened, stayed where he was. It was his first time away from Antigua. He knew not where to go or what to do in this strange port, but he wanted his freedom, so he would make do.

  The following morning, with rain still lingering, Davis went in search for a token of affection for Felicity. A woman walking towards him caught his eye as being familiar. When she approached and came closer, he definitely recognized her but could not place her.

  No nod or greeting was passed between them and as he rounded a corner, he turned to look at her again as she crossed the street. She was so beautiful. Her brown hair hung in ringlets from under her cap, framing her delicate features. Very pleasing indeed, but who was she? He began to follow her at a safe distance. She led him to a side street where she entered a small printing shop.

  Curious, he also entered the shop. The little black bell jingled as the door closed behind him. After Davis shook the rain from his coat, he found himself alone. Large iron printing presses occupied all the space behind a wooden counter close to the front of the room. To one side, a small hearth gave heat to the cramped quarters.

  After several minutes, the woman that he’d followed came from behind a door. “May I be of assistance?”

  “Yes. I’m looking for stationary, a gift for my wife. I need it before I sail home in two days.”

  “Let me check my husband’s schedule book.”

  He waited for an answer, all the while studying her face. With lustful eyes, he continued to stare at her rounded bosom. “Forgive me, but you are so familiar to me.” He raised his stare on her.

  She looked up from her ledger at his face. “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you. If you’ll excuse me?” Then she disappeared behind the door.

  Davis scanned the counter and could not help but notice a blue flowered teacup. It resembled a similar pattern that was on the porcelain tea set that he’d given to his wife upon their marriage. He remembered the circumstances surrounding how he came in possession of the delicate china and began to make sense of whom this woman might be.

  Maria Ellis held her forehead and sat down on the small bench next to her husband’s worktable.

  “Is everything all right, Maria?” her husband asked.

  She was silent.

  He came closer. “Are you feeling ill?”

  “Matthew, I feel faint. Would you please help our customer? He’s in need of stationary.”

  “Certainly, my dear.” He kissed her on the top of her cap and did as he was asked.

  Maria recognized the pirate Thomas Davis; his face was etched into her memory. Maria Hallett, as she was known then, had been the lover of Davis’s pirate captain, Sam Bellamy. Her hands shook as she recalled how Sam had perished in the North Harwich fire, along with her dear friend, Abigail. The two other pirate survivors from the shipwreck, Davis and Julian, had disappeared from her world. She always prayed that they were dead.

  Marriage to Matthew Ellis had made it easier for Maria to keep her past a secret. Building a life with her beloved husband was progressing well and now two children blessed their life together. If anyone knew of the things that she had done, they might take everything away from her, even her children. Young Matthew, only three years old, and two-year-old Abigail, were the beacons that lit her path to happiness. Determined to protect herself and her family, she would need to destroy any evidence that could lead to her true identity. Maria wrung her hands over and over in her lap trying to figure what to do.

  “Are you better?” Matthew asked as he returned through the door to the rear of the shop.

  “Better.”

  “That’s good to hear. The gentleman inquired about you and thought he knew you.”

  “He did? What did you tell him?” Her voice quivered.

  “Not much, my dear.” He took her in his arms and held her until she stopped shaking. “The secrets of your past stop with me, my love.”

  The next morning, while the children played under the watchful eye of Anna, their nanny, Maria busied herself in the back parlor. Their living quarters were behind the shop and consisted of five rooms total: three below and two on top. She closed the door to separate herself from the kitchen and hurried to begin her plan. As young Matthew played with his wooden wagon in the kitchen, a loud crash came from behind the closed door and broke the tranquil setting. Little Abigail began to cry. Anna picked her up for comfort and then went to find the source of the noise. She discovered Maria standing over the broken pieces of her blue flowered china. A tray lay upside down over the shards.

  Maria feigned surprise. “I don’t know what happened.”

  “Oh my,” said Anna. “Let me help you.”

  “No, you tend to the children. It was my mistake. I’ll clean it up.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Alone with the last of Sam’s gift of china, Maria knelt down onto the wood planked floor and with great care she picked up the once cherished white and blue pieces. She reached for a large piece of material from her weaving chest. After she placed all the shards on top of the cloth, she folded the fabric over the pieces and tied its four ends together. Within seconds, she remembered the teacup from the front shop. She must retrieve it. In a few days, Davis would return for his order and must not see the china. Hurrying through the house to the shop, she grabbed the cup and, in an instant, thought of Sam and smiled. He had loved her in his own way, and she had loved him…at one time. Tracing the thin edge of the porcelain with her fingertip, she wondered if surely one tiny cup and saucer would not matter, if kept out of sight. Maria decided to keep the last two pieces. She looked around her bedroom for fear there was anything else that might incriminate her. The ring that Sam had given her on the night of their betrothal was safely stored in a tin box beneath her clothes. She and Matthew may need some extra money in the future.

  Before the approach of dusk, Maria told Anna that she would be gone for a short time on an errand. Matthew was busy on
Davis’s order so dinner would be later than usual. She lifted the heavy cloth filled with the broken china into the children’s wagon and pulled it to the harbor. As she walked the back streets, she comforted herself with the thought that what she was doing was necessary for her future. The remains of the china were the last of anything that pointed to her past. The gold coins were all gone. She fondly recalled the old leather chest that had safeguarded her riches for so many years throughout her exile on the outskirts of Eastham, where she had been banished for her supposed sins against the church. It too, was gone. The chest had been destroyed by accident when, filled with her treasure, it fell off their wagon the day Matthew and Maria arrived in Barnstable as husband and wife. As a wedding gift, Matthew had built Maria a new chest to hold her treasures.

  By the time she approached the landing of the dock most people were home for their last meal of the day, affording her privacy to complete her plan. The wheels of the wagon rumbled against the black-tarred boards of the pier. When she could go no further, she untied the woven cloth and, with all her might, lifted it up and threw the shards from the material out into the bay as far as she could. The pieces sunk fast into the dark, blue green vastness.

  Maria stood for a short while until the water settled smooth again, then she picked up the handle of the wagon and retraced her steps home. She hoped that young Matthew and Abigail were enjoying their evening meal; she could hardly wait to hug them, confident now of her family’s safety.

  13

  Present Day

  BREWSTER - CAPE COD

  DANNY CAME HOME from pre-school around noon. He slammed the screen door, ran over to me and planted a big wet kiss on my lips. What a treat, I thought. He was my miracle baby. I’d had him when I was 40 years old, and he was the last of my five children.

  “How was your day?”